Astrophel and Other Poems/Eton: an Ode

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197345Astrophel and Other Poems — Eton: an OdeAlgernon Charles Swinburne

ETON: AN ODE.

FOR THE FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE
FOUNDATION OF THE COLLEGE.

I.

Four hundred summers and fifty have shone on the

meadows of Thames and died
Since Eton arose in an age that was darkness, and shone
by his radiant side
As a star that the spell of a wise man's word bade live and
ascend and abide.

And ever as time's flow brightened, a river more dark
than the storm-clothed sea,
And age upon age rose fairer and larger in promise of
hope set free,
With England Eton her child kept pace as a fostress of
men to be.

And ever as earth waxed wiser, and softer the beating of
time's wide wings,
Since fate fell dark on her father, most hapless and
gentlest of star-crossed kings,
Her praise has increased as the chant of the dawn that
the choir of the noon outsings.

II.

Storm and cloud in the skies were loud, and lightning

mocked at the blind sun's light;
War and woe on the land below shed heavier shadow than
falls from night;
Dark was earth at her dawn of birth as here her record of
praise is bright.

Clear and fair through her morning air the light first laugh
of the sunlit stage
Rose and rang as a fount that sprang from depths yet
dark with a spent storm's rage,
Loud and glad as a boy's, and bade the sunrise open on
Shakespeare's age.

Lords of state and of war, whom fate found strong in
battle, in counsel strong,
Here, ere fate had approved them great, abode their
season, and thought not long:
Here too first was the lark's note nursed that filled and
flooded the skies with song.

III.

Shelley, lyric lord of England's lordliest singers, here first

heard
Ring from lips of poets crowned and dead the Promethean
word
Whence his soul took fire, and power to outsoar the
sunward-soaring bird.

Still the reaches of the river, still the light on field and
hill,
Still the memories held aloft as lamps for hope's young
fire to fill,
Shine, and while the light of England lives shall shine
for England still.

When four hundred more and fifty years have risen and
shone and set,
Bright with names that men remember, loud with names
that men forget,
Haply here shall Eton's record be what England finds
it yet.